


With every breath we crash together

by hugemind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, Rough Sex, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-04
Updated: 2007-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugemind/pseuds/hugemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean likes to think that he's always the one in charge. But he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With every breath we crash together

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed and made better by the wonderful [](http://bowtrunckle.livejournal.com/profile)[**bowtrunckle**](http://bowtrunckle.livejournal.com/) \- any remaining mistakes are mine. Originally posted to LJ on October 4, 2007.

"I'm going to make you feel every inch, Dean."

The filth dripped from Sam's lips, voice dark like the night sky, confident smile forming glittering stars above him.

Dean had the words ready, easy banter like always, not wanting to give Sam the advantage, never backing down from a challenge. Not surrendering the last bit of his control. With naked on his hands and knees, once-fucked ass in the air, Dean was already giving away too much.

"You think so?"

It was familiar, a fight like they had with their fists, words. Heated and rough, animals tumbling down a hillside, too concentrated in each other to notice anything else.

The heels of Sam's huge-ass palms grounded themselves in Dean's hips, thumbs digging into toned flesh, long fingers splayed over the bones. Sam's hands reached for his cock, teasing, keeping him on the edge.

"I know so."

The hands released their grip, then slid up his sides and over his ribs, pausing on his shoulders to use them as a leverage through a snap of Sam's hips, then another. Both thrusts countered by the slight roll of Dean's hips, a punch for a punch.

"Then bring it on, bitch."

Sam's palms skimmed down the sweat-slick skin of Dean's back, marking a path, slowly mapping old scars. Shallow thrusts kept Dean open when cold air rushed to replace the hands. Shivers ran down his back because of the contrast of cold on hot - certainly not because he didn't know where the hands were going to land again. He was good in stepping back and assessing the situation, in calculating the odds and finding the weak spots. He was a fucking master.

Then the soft skin of the insides of Sam's forearms pressed against his hips, one big palm curling into a fist around his cock, the nimble fingers of the other hand fastening on a cock ring.

It was like a thumb to the eye, not quite a hit below the belt.

"That's--" Dean drew a deep breath to adjust to the feeling. He smiled because he hadn't anticipated this, and despite the error in his judgment he was proud that this brother still had a bag of unused tricks. "That's cheating, Sammy."

Maybe this could be interesting.

Sam's knee nudged Dean's legs open wider, hands back on Dean's hips, now using enough force to override the rhythm he had demanded. The new, slow thrusts went deep, brushing against his prostate.

"You saying you can't handle it?"

Dean shifted his palms on the mattress, bracing himself against the worn fabric, getting back into balance. They circled each other, teeth bared in taunting smirks, sizing up the competition.

"Fuck you."

He was satisfied with his tone. It was dismissive enough to goad Sam into a blind attack. Although slightly shaky, Dean was determined to win the fight as he always had. Not that he was keeping score because Sammy didn't seem to mind how sex happened as long as it happened. But Dean _always_ came out on top.

Sure as the planets orbiting the sun, Sam surged forward. Just not in a fit of uncontrolled passion as Dean expected. Sam's heavy body covered him, stealthy like a panther, Dean's arms almost buckling under the sudden weight, Sam's hands brushing methodically against his jaw and neck, teeth biting his shoulders. Then, just like that, Sam retreated.

Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam that it would take more to thrown him off his game, but then he realized that Sam hadn't missed. A heavy leather belt looped around his neck, the metal buckle cold in his neck. It was his belt, Sam using his things against him. The evil bastard. Cheater.

"Sam." His voice rumbled from deep inside, a warning to stop before the fighting got serious and blood was drawn.

In response, Sam placed a big hand on the small of Dean's back, pushing him down, while the other yanked the belt taut. Dean's head drew back, weight robbed from his arms and forced on his throat. His back arched almost beyond its limit, his body trapped without a fight. Nowhere to run.

Sam's slick cock pressed in to the hilt.

"I told you I'm going to make you feel every inch." Sam eased the strain on Dean's back a little, crouching to whisper in his ear. " _Really_ feel it."

Sam pushed himself back up, pulled the belt taut again -- so damn tight -- and forced Dean's spine to curve painfully. "You're not gonna win this one, Dean."

The stiff leather around his throat acted as leverage for Sam as he drove into him mercilessly, grunting and groaning while he was choked into silence. His rock-hard cock strained against the cock ring, demanding to be released and noticed, wanting to spurt and rebel.

Sam worked Dean's prostate with cruel and accurate strokes, raising his need. And Dean needed so much - oxygen to feed his blood, to win, to come. But every fight was out of his hands.

Sam's cock reamed his ass. Sam was giving it to him hard just how he liked it; the belt dug into his throat, and his vision threatened to fade. Sam's body behind him felt so hot, his hand a branding iron and the belt a leash. Dean shut his eyes.

His temples began to ache, the pressure inside his skull and ass splitting him open from both ends. Dean's lungs stretched to suck in air whenever Sam's hold of the belt faltered, the precious molecules still not enough to keep away the burn. The ache in his back was only a dull flutter drowned out by every muscle pulsing to his hammering heartbeat. Oxygen-deprived blood gathered still in his weeping cock, the dark ripples giving unexpected pleasure there.

The pounding he was taking from Sam was hard, deep and brutal, Sam's hips stuttering to the beat of his heart, demanding something he wasn't able to give, just offer to be taken. His arms were shaking, thighs maybe too, but they were only faint tremors between his full-body quakes.

His world narrowed to the violent beat of his strained body and its need to come. His brother's cock worked now in messy counterpoint to his rapid-fire pulse, filling the voids. The sounds of their desperate fucking should have been audible, but only white noise filled Dean's ears like giant waves crashing into shore.

For a second he felt nothing else than Sam in him, moving, completing him. Then everything started to spiral into blackness, his body breaking out from his skin.

Sam stopped, throbbing cock shooting wet-hot inside his ass. Every sensation slammed back into Dean with the first hint of oxygen, and he was coming harder than ever before, Sam's fingers curled around his cock, the pressure from the cock ring gone. Tension melted away from his body.

When the aftershocks faded, another arm snaked around his chest to carry his weight, laying him gently on the bed, pulling him closer to Sam's familiar warmth. Two sated bodies resting after a show of strength, every inch taken, given and felt.

Maybe this time it was a tie.

_\--end--_  



End file.
